


No, I Swear This One Is True

by NinthFeather



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Kagerou Project, Mekakucity Actors
Genre: Alternate Ending, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Discussing The Dark Knight after listening to "Yobanashi Deceive" on repeat was a poor life choice, Drabble, Gen, I only kind of regret writing this, Mental Disintegration, Mental Instability, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Summertime Record, Psychological Horror, The Joker is a warning all by himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinthFeather/pseuds/NinthFeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was a hostage once, you know, and I was much more interesting,” the Joker drawled, absently fiddling with the chamber of the revolver in his hand.  “Of course, I wasn’t really a hostage.  That was a lie, too.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	No, I Swear This One Is True

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is what happens when one discusses the Joker with friends after listening to “Yobanashi Decieve”. In terms of timeline, this happens at least ten years after Kagepro/MCA canon, and at some point right before the start of The Dark Knight. The Kagerou Project universe played out like the anime until Summertime Record, where it followed the songs and everyone forgot. After that, it went completely AU. This fic does contain a few references to the songs in the dialogue, some of which are from JubyPhonic’s singable translations of them, and others which are literally translated. Have fun picking them out. Oh, and special thanks to my beta, miladyRanger, who is always willing to read my fic, no matter what kind of nonsense I ask her to read.

 Rain sounded like drums on the roof of a warehouse in Gotham’s downtown, as, inside, a scraggly-haired man paced the concrete floor of a building inhabited only by him and one other.

 “Come on, now, smile,” the man in the purple suit urged, bending down to look the tied-up man in the eye.

The hostage shrank away from him, tears gathering in his eyes as he shook his head.

“You really are terrified,” the man said slowly, greasepaint cracking as the folds of his face rearranged themselves around a small, pouting frown.  “So…disappointing.”

“I mean, I like terror as much as the next psycho, but you’re being so generic,” he said, his rough, lisping voice petered out into a sigh. 

“I was a hostage once, you know, and I was _much_ more interesting,” the clown drawled, absently fiddling with the chamber of the revolver in his hand.  “Of course, I wasn’t _really_ a hostage.  That was a lie, too.”

“Do you want to know how I got these scars?” he asked, greasy, chemical-green hair falling into his cat-like eyes.

Again, the hostage shook his head, but the clown didn’t even seem to notice.

“I used to lie all the time,” he said.  “Like breathing, only more often.  ‘cause, y’see, I wasn’t always breathing.”

“I barely remember the first time I died,” he said.  “It was robbers,  and they cut me and my mother up like deli meat.   Only difference is, I came back.”

“Didn’t die again ‘til I was a teenager,” he continued.  “I have no idea how many times it was.  A lot, I think.   I remember most of ‘em.”

He clicked the chamber of the revolver back into place, and lifted it, pointing the barrel at his forehead.

“I died like this,” he said.  “Bang, the next day and the next and the next…and then it was over.  And I couldn’t lie anymore.”

“Y’see, before, I could always smile, no matter what I was feeling,” the clown said, lowering the revolver to point at the floorboards.  “Always deceiving, always wearing masks…without it, I felt raw.  Like an exposed nerve.”

He fired the gun into the floorboards, laughing as the sound caused the hostage to scream and burst into tears.

“So then I thought, what if I could get my mask back,” the clown said. “And then I went, and found a knife, and stuck it in my mouth.  I made myself a new smile.”

“It wasn’t enough, though,” he said.  “Not as good as my old masks.  No one fell for it, and it made my sister and brother upset.  But they didn’t get it.  They didn’t remember a thing.”

“So I left, got some greasepaint, and, ta-da!  I became the Joker you see today.”

The hostage whimpered softly.

“Oh, come on, didn’t you enjoy our little talk?” the Joker asked.

The hostage froze, fearful, eyes still watery, as the Joker once again raised the gun.

“Why so serious?” he asked, his words nearly inaudible over the gunshot.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn’t realize, the premise of this fic is that after the song-canon version of Summertime Record, Kano regained his memories of the Daze, the time loops and his (now-gone) Deceiving Eyes ability, and didn’t handle the infodump so well. I actually cannot watch The Dark Knight without getting upset, it is that disturbing to me, so this fic was a fun way to freak myself out. If you disliked it, please flame me regarding how messed up this fic is (I’m not entirely kidding, either; I enjoy freaking people out—just ask my poor beta, miladyRanger).


End file.
